Crystalline
by triggerhappy.antagonist
Summary: [Running Scared] Set Two Months After The Movie. Oleg Is Feeling Unwanted By His New Family, So Joey Offers Him Some Paternal Reassurance. [Oneshot]


**Crystalline**

"Mr. Gazelle."

Joey's steel blue eyes flickered over to the slight, disheveled child. He regarded the boy in front of him with a chagrin look. "Oleg, how many times I gotta tell you?" he exhaled with a robustious sigh. "You're a part of this family now, got it? Call me Dad."

Oleg's breath hitched. The same way it always did whenever words of sentimental value were spoken. He averted his wavering gaze from Joey's stony glare, as if he were not laudable enough to meet the eyes of the older man.

"Sorry."

"What're you doin' up, anyway?" Joey popped a piece of gum into his mouth and chewed it thoughtfully. His eyes were directed to the Television screen, where some old-fashioned cop show was playing. But his full attention was focused on the pensive ten-year-old.

"I couldn't sleep." Oleg muttered. The silent tension in the room, combined with the cacophonous sounds emitting from the television made Oleg fidget anxiously.

"Why?" Joey turned to face the boy in slight concern. "You had an asthma attack?" He scrutinized Oleg's face for the notorious symptoms, and found none. Ever since Oleg had moved in with the Gazelle's, Joey had become apprehensively aware of how precarious an asthma attack could be.

"No." The unease and worry in Joey's voice made Oleg's heart sink. It was both consolatory and uncomfortable. Consolatory because it made Oleg feel loved and important; uncomfortable because no one had ever actually cared about him before. "I just… couldn't sleep."

"Huh." Joey scoffed boisterously. How many times had he heard that from Nick? Several. To say he was used to this would be an understatement.

"Sorry." Oleg hung his head dejectedly. Honestly, what response had he expected from the aggressive older man? Reassurance? Consolation? Joey was not that type. He knew that.

With the air of somber rejection and an expression of despondence, Oleg turned around to return to his room. Why had he come down here, again? What had he expected? What had he wanted? He could not seem to recall.

"Come here."

Those words, spoken so softly and with such amiableness, sent shivers down Oleg's spine. He involuntarily tensed, pale face contorting into an expression of slight pain. When was the last time he'd heard such a familiar phrase? Why did it sound so… _haunting _in his ears.

"_Come here…"_

Anzor…

"_Where are you going? You do not walk out on The Duke!"_

That gun…

"_John Wayne was a faggot."_

The ice rink…

"_Don't fuckin' walk away from me!"_

It was his fault…

"_Get up… you fuck…"_

_The blood on his hands…_

"Oleg."

The boy's unfocused, crystal-blue eyes came to settle upon Joey's calm, indifferent face.

"Come here." Joey repeated impassively, yet, with a note of firmness. He raised his hand to languidly signal for the boy to come forward. With his eyes set on the ground, Oleg numbly stepped forward and stood, completely stiff, in front of Joey, as if awaiting his next order.

The older man lazily shuffled over to allow some room for Oleg to sit, but the boy merely eyed the empty space dubiously. His discomfiture was evident in the skeptical expression on his face. "What are you thinking?" Joey asked. It was his more-so nonchalant way of saying, "What's wrong?"

"…Nothing."

It wasn't nothing. Even Joey could see that. The kid had sported the same uncomfortable, cynical look for weeks. Hell, he'd worn the expression into the dirt. Joey knew that Oleg wasn't one to openly display his emotions on his sleeve (To be honest, neither was Joey), and it wasn't much of a curiosity, considering what the boy had been through in his life.

"Sit down." Joey tapped the empty space on the couch.

Oleg obeyed, and silently took a seat beside Joey. He set his sweaty hands in his lap, and twiddled his fingers nervously.

"Don't screw with me, kid, I know something's up," Joey said, as he handled the television remote. Oleg only ever became more-so anxious when Joey's full attention was set on him, so, the older man tried to make himself seem distracted by the television.

"It's—" Oleg exhaled sharply. "Nothing…" under his breath, he added a whispered, "…really."

The answer did not satisfy Joey. But, nevertheless, he kept his mouth shut. _Give him some time_, his mind reassured. _He'll say something soon_.

Joey gave a nonchalant shrug and turned up the volume on the television. The silence that followed was tense, and not comfortable in the least, but neither boy nor man had the guts to interrupt it. It was finally broken, however, when a particularly loud gunshot emitted from the television.

Despite the low volume set on the TV, the noise still sounded deafening in Oleg's ears. His eardrums throbbed, and he instantly jerked at the cacophonous sound. He unconsciously squeezed his eyes shut to avoid seeing the wounded man fall on the screen.

"Nothing, eh…" Joey took in each of Oleg's reactions to the gunshot. The boys' physical response was unusual, to say the least. The kid had wielded a gun one too many times before, and even took a shot or two, yet, the sound of a gun firing on television apparently terrified him.

Unusual, yet, logical.

Joey lazily slung an arm around Oleg's shoulders in a way that registered both comfort and protection. The kid flinched at the touch, much to Joey's dismay. Of course, it was to be expected. The boy never liked physical contact. Though, the incident with Dez and Edele didn't exactly help him. To say it had made him worse would not be a lie.

A second wave of pensive silence swept over the two. Joey seemed to be contemplating deeply about something important. Oleg found the quietness very uncomfortable. But, he couldn't compel himself to break it.

"…You know that story I told you?" Joey spoke at last, voice soft and thoughtful. "The one about the boy whose Father beat him."

… "Yes." Oleg never forgot that story.

"The little boy, right? The one who beat his Dad with the baseball bat… did you ever think about who he was?"

Oleg inhaled slowly. He had an assumption. Though, he didn't have the heart to say it. "No," he lied.

"Hmm." If he didn't know, Joey wouldn't tell him.

"But…" The younger boy finally exhaled the breath he'd been holding. "He… he was feeling the same way I was…" his voice dulled to an incoherent whisper. "When I… shot Anzor…"

"Yes," Joey agreed. _I was_. More than anything, he wanted Oleg to just relax and open up to him. He almost felt angry at the boy, in a way, for being so bottled-up. In the few weeks he'd been living with the Gazelle's, Joey had never once seen him smile.

Uncomfortable, perhaps? Maybe. He had gone through a lot before. He'd lost both his parents, saw his Father get shot right before his eyes, and almost gotten killed multiple times. All in less than two days. He had reason to feel uncomfortable.

"You don't like it here, do you?" Joey asked his thoughts aloud.

"Uhh…" Oleg had not anticipated such a question, and found himself probing his mind for a response. "Well, no, I mean—yes, but it's—err, I mean…" he stammered.

"It's different."

"…Yes." If Joey knew the answer, then why had he asked the question? Oleg pondered mentally.

"You feel like you don't fit in," Joey continued distractedly, his blue eyes glazing cobalt. "Like everything around you is moving, but your world is standing still."

"Yes…" Oleg's eyes widened. The words Joey spoke sounded so true, so real. It both shocked and impressed him.

Joey nodded his head.

"I-It's like… I just feel… you know…" Oleg was stuttering now. His voice so low Joey had to strain to hear him. "…_unwanted_…"

The older man heaved a long sigh. Reaching over, he gently wrapped his arms around Oleg, and, in one swift movement, pulled him close in a comforting embrace. Oleg involuntarily froze at the sudden close propinquity, and all breath seemed to die within his throat.

Joey ran his fingers through the boys' short, dark hair. "I know," he whispered softly. "I'm sorry."

"F-For what?" Despite the warmth of Joey's embrace, Oleg shivered. He wanted so much to return the hug, but found he couldn't compel himself to. He wanted to thank Joey, but the words seemed so hollow in his mind.

"For not sayin' it."

"Saying what?"

Joey broke the embrace, and gently pulled Oleg back. He stared fixatedly into the boy's deep, piercing blue eyes, and Oleg stared back. Crystalline azure clashed against clear cerulean.

"I love you."

**::Does The First **_**Running Scared**_** Oneshot Victory Dance:: Seriously, That Was A Great Movie. I Was Mildly Shocked When I Discovered There Was No **_**Running Scared**_** Fanfiction. So, I Decided To Write My Own. This One Took Me Months To Write; Every Word Had To Be Deeply Considered. I've Never Actually Written An Angsty Oneshot Before, So I'm Very New At This. I Gave It My Best Shot, Though. Please Give Me Your Honest Opinion, Because I May Write More **_**Running Scared**_** Oneshots.**


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